


Under the Waterdeep Sun

by adaptation



Series: The Undone and the Divine [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Gen, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 06:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18338033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adaptation/pseuds/adaptation
Summary: This is how Will and Michael pass their time.





	Under the Waterdeep Sun

When they were kids, maybe thirteen or fourteen, Will would run through the streets of Waterdeep, darting around shoppers and strollers and the occasional member of the City Watch. Sometimes he’d run just for the thrill of it, but most of the time he was chasing after Michael. He’d knock on the window of Talmost Clothiers, Halifax by his side, and Michael would come whirling out, barely remembering to toss a goodbye over his shoulder to his mother behind the counter. Most of the time, Michael would manage to avoid knocking over one of the customers on their way out, arms laden with the finest furs in Faerun. He’d be laughing before his feet hit the cobbled streets of the Trades Ward. Michael’s laugh was infectious.

 

They’d head to the Docks to laze in the warm Waterdhavian sun with their legs dangling into the water. When they were feeling ambitious or brave, they’d sneak into the City of the Dead, lurk around the edges and throw rocks at the crumbling tombs. Michael always wanted to draw out an undead, but they never managed before one of the guards spotted them and shooed them away.

 

“I can take ‘em,” he’d insist, brandishing the biggest branch he could find.

 

The guards, who knew the three of them by name by that point, would snicker and shove them along.“Not yet, you can’t, pup, but maybe in a few years, yeah?”

 

Michael had always wanted to be an adventurer.

 

They did finally manage to coax out one of the undead creatures lurking in the ancient cemetery, though it was years later and by that time Halifax had moved to Neverwinter. They were sixteen, in the full swing of their training, and Michael, eager to show off his burgeoning Barbarian skillset, had persuaded Will to grow some vines up over the high stone walls that surrounded it. Together, they’d climbed over, and Michael wasted no time finding something dangerous to provoke.

 

They’d nearly gotten themselves killed, but that was the sort of thing Michael lived for. They’d stumbled out to safety, past a set of bewildered guards, both panting with exertion. Will’s arm was broken, but he was smiling. Michael laughed and whooped and pumped his fist in the air even through the blood flowing steadily from a gash in his head, matting his copper brown hair.

 

Sometime in the years before their betrothal, Michael grew. Not just in height—Will had gotten used to being taller than him, and was surprised to find, one day, that they were roughly the same height—but in form. He would never be a bulky man, but as a child he’d been a scrawny thing, much like Will himself. Then, one summer he ripped off his tunic to dive into the harbour and he was all muscle, oozing strength. Not quiet strength, either—nobody would ever call him quiet. His training had made his body a weapon, one he clearly knew how to use.

 

He’d emerged from the water with a shake of his head, his curls shining dark reddish brown with the dampness in the sun. His freckles always got darker and more numerous in the summer, and sometimes Will couldn’t help but trace them with his eyes, over Michael’s cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, or the appealing line of his shoulders.

 

“You like what you see?” he’d ask as he dried his face on his crumpled up shirt. He’d throw Will a wink, mouth tugged into a wicked smirk.

 

The blood would rush to Will’s cheeks, but he’d laugh it off with something like, “You wish,” tossing a small flame at Michael and singing a hole in his shirt. “I’ve got the best ass in Waterdeep.”

 

The air around Michael would warm with his anger, the kind that was only his—loud, but tinged around the edges with amusement and affection, his loudness all for show. “You’re the biggest asshole in Waterdeep, more like!”

 

His temper was legendary, flaring and dying just as quickly. He rarely stayed mad for longer than a few minutes, and when he did it was for good reason.

 

Will had never seen Michael cry. Not even when his father died.

 

When Lord Talmost died, Michael did what he did best. He got angry. Will found him in the woods that day, swinging at an unsuspecting tree with his great-axe. Will waited until he was finished, let him wear himself out, and then healed the tree as best he could.

 

They’d tried to keep in touch with Halifax, and managed it for a while, but there was only so much friendship maintenance you could do through letters. Will enjoyed the letters while they lasted, despite, or perhaps because of, Hali’s keen sense of perception where Will’s affections were concerned. Did you tell him yet? Hali would write, and Will would write back _Fuck off._

 

He didn’t write to Halifax when he and Michael were betrothed.

 

It was Grandmother Cassandra’s idea. Will had never been her favourite, likely because she barely tolerated his mother, Arilyn. To hear his mother tell it, Cassandra had been visibly relieved when Will came out looking almost entirely human, except for the slight point to his ears. Will suspected the betrothal was mostly based in her racism, an attempt to keep Will from breeding with an elf, like his incorrigible father. If he never bred at all, so much the better—she had other grandchildren to carry on the line, pureblood human grandchildren. The elven in the Thann bloodline could die with him.

 

The status of it didn’t hurt, either. The Thanns were well-situated, obviously, but it could never hurt to gain another connection, especially to the finest furriers and clothiers in Faerun. A marriage would make that connection especially strong; the fact that Michael and Will were already friends was moot, a minor perk at best.

 

His parents would never have made him go through with it, he knew, and Will himself would have told his grandmother to shove it, if it had been anyone but Michael.

 

The Talmost family was shaken by its lord’s death. Michael had brothers ready and willing to take over the family business, but there was a power vacuum left in Lord Talmost’s wake, and a hasty betrothal to a powerful family would buy them time to regain their footing.

 

“Did you hear?” Michael laughed the next time they saw each other. Will was draped over a tree branch some fifteen feet in the air, one arm dangling down while the other cushioned his head. “We’re engaged, you lucky fuck!”

 

“Yeah.” Will did his best to sound as amused as Michael seemed to be. “Your mother must be ecstatic.”

 

“Of course she is. She loves you more than she loves me!” Michael scrambled up the trunk of the tree and leapt onto the branch nearest him.

 

Will chuckled. “That’s because you’re an asshole. I’m a nice boy.”

 

“Nah, you’re a piece of shit like me. You’re just better at hiding it.”

 

They didn’t make any plans—at least, not about the wedding. They were young still, barely twenty, and the betrothal itself provided enough security that the ceremony wasn’t pressing. Besides, Michaelll wanted to roam before he settled down. He wanted to go adventuring.

 

He asked Will to go with him, once. Will had almost said yes. He’d wanted to, desperately. He’d never been good at saying no to Michael, let alone when it involved spending more time with him. But he needed time away. If they were going to be married for political reasons, Will probably shouldn’t be in love with him.

 

He’d never been the adventuring type himself. All his shenanigans growing up had been the direct result of his friendship with Michael Talmost. But when Michael left Waterdeep on a great black horse, shirtless and draped in furs, big fuck off sword strapped to his back, Will couldn’t think of anything else to do.

 

He went home and packed, and, after kissing his mother on the cheek and giving his dad a manly handshake, he left his manor home in search of adventure.

 

He found it about ten minutes later, nailed to a signpost in the Trade Ward. _Experienced Adventurers Wanted_. Underneath, in smaller print, reference was made to goblins harassing the town of Nightstone. There was no name, only _Enquire at The Splintered Stair for details_.

 

It was there that he met Luna and Mialee.

 

It was there that he met Ashton.


End file.
